Master Apprentice Archive The Red Band - Part 2: Coming of Age Quick search:

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Category: First-time, Angst

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: none

Series: The Red Band. Part #1 is archived on my site.

Summary: Obi-Wan is 21 and finally ready to make Qui-Gon an offer he can't refuse. Or can he?

Disclaimer: George Lucas is da man. He owns everything. We just play.

Warnings: Explicit homosexual and heterosexual sex scenes, one of which is non-consensual.

AGE 21:

Obi-Wan mingled with his guests, accepting congratulations here, a pat on the back there. He caught Bant's questioning look from across the room. Her large, bulbous head tilted slightly, toward his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, who stood near the drink bowl with Adi Gallia, listening politely as the pretty dark-skinned Master chatted.

Obi-Wan gave his young Calamarian friend a cheeky grin, covering his nervousness. He turned and made his way through the crowd.

Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan's approach and turned to give his apprentice a smile. He engulfed the young man's shoulder in his iron grip. "So now you're legal, Padawan." The coming-of-age party was an ancient tradition, to recognize a young person's passage into adulthood -- age 21 for humans -- although Qui-Gon knew his Padawan had already attained more maturity and wisdom than many men twice his age. He was proud of his apprentice, though he rarely said so in words. This ritual meant comparatively little to the Jedi; most were already well involved in missions by that age. It was more ceremonial now, although a few strictures still remained. Until adulthood no Padawan was allowed to go alone into the city's sub-levels, to partake of alcohol and other legal drugs, to engage in sex with other Jedi of higher rank. Most Padawans didn't desire such things, anyway, so the coming-of-age made slight difference to their lives.

"Thank you for your gift, Master." Obi-Wan turned, bowed slightly to Master Gallia, then turned back to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon had given his apprentice a rock. It was an old tradition between them, dating back to Obi-Wan's 13th birthday. "You are most welcome, Padawan."

Obi-Wan reached up and, feeling awkward, slid the red band from the base of his Padawan braid. He held it out to Qui-Gon. "I have one for you as well." He willed himself to look into his Master's eyes and calmly accept whatever his answer might be. Obi-Wan had settled on this approach after he had spent three days fumbling around for the words he could say to convey to Qui-Gon his true feelings and had come up with nothing worthy of the moment. He realized he was biting his lip and forced himself to stop.

Master Gallia moved discreetly away and filled her cup with red liquid, but she continued to listen, enthralled.

The butterflies in Obi-Wan's stomach lurched as his Master raised one imperious brow and laughed. "What is this, Obi-Wan?"

"It's ... ah ..." And how could his Master not know? Everyone knew of the tradition, the red band which meant Obi-Wan was unavailable. He'd put it on the day after he and his Master had endured "the talk," as he thought of it, a painful argument about how Obi-Wan was only 16 and would surely get over it, how once he knew true love he would laugh at his earlier infatuation. He'd hoped by his wearing the red band he could make his Master understand that his devotion was no temporary crush. The red band meant he had taken no lovers -- his body had been reserved for the one he loved. He had been content to wait until now, until he was finally free to declare his affections and have them returned. He had thought his Master's reticence had been due to the fact that he, also, was waiting for Obi-Wan to be "legal." Surely if he had no intention of returning Obi-Wan's feelings he would not have been so cruel as to say nothing. After five years, to think that Qui-Gon not only had ignored the symbol but even now was pretending not to know what it meant when offered to him ...

He dropped his gaze. "I think I've made a mistake," he said softly. He closed his hand on the red band and turned to walk away. Qui-Gon's hand dropped to his shoulder again, but Obi-Wan shrugged it off. He wasn't even conscious of where he was going, what he meant to do, until Bant caught him up short by stepping in front of him.

"What happened?" she breathed. She had never seen Obi-Wan look so defeated.

"He laughed," he said. His fist clenched on the red band. His Padawan braid had begun to unravel, but he didn't care. This night, which he'd looked forward to with eagerness for more years than he'd like to admit, had turned into a nightmare. All his devotion, unwanted. All his care to let nothing of his feelings affect his behavior or training, wasted. All his young body's desires, so carefully meditated away into the Force lest they offend, unfulfilled. Qui-Gon might as well have just spit in his face.

"Oh, Obi. I'm sorry." She took his hand, and her eyes sparkled. "But don't give up yet. I was worried something like this might happen, and I have a Plan B." She drew him over to stand next to a statuesque, dark-haired girl in a green party dress. "You remember my friend Rissa?"

"That was poorly done," chided Master Gallia, as she returned to Qui-Gon's side.

Qui-Gon stared after his apprentice, still confused, but knowing somehow that he'd done the wrong thing. Obi-Wan had slunk away with his tail between his legs. Qui-Gon sighed. "Perhaps you can explain to me what just happened."

Master Gallia looked at him speculatively. "How long has it been since you were a Padawan Learner, Qui-Gon?"

"A few centuries, I sometimes think." He grinned. "Why?"

"Perhaps it was before your time then."

"What?"

"The bands. The colored bands. It was a tradition by the time I was a Padawan, so I figured it had always been around."

Qui-Gon was beginning to feel alarmed. "I had no idea they had some sort of meaning. Please, tell me what I've just done."

"Your Padawan, who, by the way, is the object of a great deal of anguished longings from the other Padawans and even a few Knights, has been wearing a red band on his braid for, as far as I can recall, about five years now. I noticed it only because my own Padawan pointed it out to me as being supremely unfair that such a desirable young man was making himself unavailable."

"Unavailable?"

She laughed. "Surely you're around him enough to know that he's had no lovers, not since adolescence at any rate."

"I thought he was merely being discreet."

Her smile faded, and she placed a hand on his arm. "The colored bands are a code, a shorthand to avoid misunderstandings about who's available and for what. It's clear Obi-Wan has been saving himself until the time he came of age and could offer his affections openly. A lot of people here have been wondering if he would make his move tonight, and if so, to whom."

"What are you saying?" Qui-Gon's stomach tightened.

"Obi-Wan just offered you a sexual relationship. And the red band was supposed to let you know just how serious that offer was."

He suddenly remembered an unpleasant conversation they'd had after narrowly escaping death on a failed mission when the boy had been about 16. Obi-Wan had confessed his love for his Master. To be frank, Qui-Gon had expected the confession earlier, but he had still been taken unawares, handled it badly. He remembered making a half-serious remark to his Padawan about how true love would stand the test of time, then he'd promply put the incident out of his mind. Obviously the boy had not forgotten so easily. Qui-Gon's heart skipped a beat, then settled into its usual rhythm as he firmly clamped a lid on his feelings. His voice betrayed nothing but amused interest. "A sexual relationship? With my student?"

"It's by no means unheard of, Qui-Gon. You'd have to seek the approval of the council, but I, for one, would have no problem with it. It's obvious he's not let his affections get in the way of his training. He's not a boy any longer, Qui-Gon. I don't think you realize that. Why don't you open your eyes and see what's before you? By the Force, man, look at him. I know I'd be thrilled and humbled to have a gorgeous creature like that falling at my feet. And even if you don't desire him, you could have let him down gently. I think you should go to him."

"Perhaps I should." Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan, seeing him through new eyes. His apprentice was standing next to the Calamarian Bant, a childhood friend and confidante, but his gaze was fixed on the other girl, a young Knight. Qui-Gon couldn't recall her name; she was rarely at the Temple -- none of them were, really, once they'd begun their field missions. The girl was tall, almost masculine in her fitness, with a plain, freckled face and long, dark hair falling straight to her shoulders. Her blue eyes fairly glowed with mischief, making her seem pretty despite her lack of glamour. As Qui-Gon watched, the girl's hand entwined itself in in the hair on the back of Obi-Wan's head. She leaned forward and whispered something to him. She was wearing a short, green party dress that highlighted every curve, and as Obi-Wan listened his slightly parted lips were inches from her pale, soft cleavage revealed by its open neckline. Qui-Gon was aware, suddenly, of his apprentice's form, not as a student to be exercised, but as a man to be desired. Obi-Wan had put aside his robes in honor of the celebration and wore a more form-fitting black jumpsuit which only accentuated the taut lines of his body. As Qui-Gon watched, Obi-Wan drew back and looked at Bant, his blue-green eyes seeming to twinkle. He opened his hand, and the dark-haired Knight reached down to take the red band, very deliberately slipped it into the cleft of her breasts. She smiled, and Obi-Wan took her face in both hands, pulling her up for a deep, passionate kiss.

_That band was meant for me,- Qui-Gon thought helplessly. A pang of jealousy stirred, taking him by surprise. _How can he give it to someone else?_

Obi-Wan broke off the kiss long enough to take a breath, then bent to taste the girl again. Qui-Gon was struck by the passion coiled in his apprentice's body, seemingly waiting to spring. _That was meant for me, too,- he thought. The girl's arms snaked around Obi-Wan's neck, and the two young people pressed their bodies together. By now most of the room had stopped to watch, murmuring and giggling.

Qui-Gon realized he was clenching his fists and willed himself to relax. His last relationship had ended disastrously many, many years ago. Since then all his energies had been poured relentlessly into duty, mission, training, meditation ... and the shreds of his trust had scarred over so that he'd believed he would never love again.

Anyway, if he _had_ sought a relationship, Qui-Gon would never have looked to his apprentice. For one thing, he was more than twice the boy's age. Why would Obi-Wan want _him_? For another thing, it wouldn't have been appropriate. It was unwise to have a lover who was one's subordinate; too many problems would arise, too many uncertainties. He'd almost made that fatal mistake once, and paid dearly for it. No, better, if he could not have an equal, to remain alone.

He told himself that as he watched the girl practically sprint out the door, Obi-Wan stalking after her with that purposeful, long-limbed stride. Why had Qui-Gon never noticed how predatory that walk could be? Whistles and applause followed the two young people as they exited the room. Bant, her face split with what passed for a smug grin with the Calamarians, drifted to the buffet.

Master Gallia's voice startled him. "Aren't you going to go after him?"

He realized he'd been staring, open mouthed. He shook his head. "He's better off with someone his own age."

She sighed. "You, Master Qui-Gon Jinn, are a fool."

Once they were safely down the corridor their pace slowed. Rissa let Obi-Wan catch up to her and put her arm through his.

Obi-Wan glanced back at the room they'd left. "Do you think he noticed?"

"He couldn't take his eyes off us."

"What should we do now?"

"He's so controlled, we'll have to knock him on the head to make him see what he's missing."

"Which means?"

"Which means, dear boy, we should go to your quarters and make love, and stay there until he comes in and catches us."

Obi-Wan stopped walking. "A kiss is one thing. But I don't even really know you, Rissa."

She laughed, using her other hand to caress his cheek. "But I know you, Obi-Wan. And I've wanted you for a long, long time. When Bant asked me if I'd do this, I jumped at the chance." She drew closer, leaning into him, pressing a kiss to the sensitive join of neck and shoulder. "You taste nice," she murmured.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. Her hair smelled of vanilla and flowers, he thought distractedly, as the kisses turned into nibbles, little bites travelling the length of his neck up to his ear. She sucked the lobe into her hot mouth and worried it with her teeth. He moaned, growing aroused despite himself. His arms closed about her waist, pressing them closer together. She blew a scalding breath in his ear, sent the tip of her tongue dipping into it and running along the outside fold.

Obi-Wan gasped. So good, so warm. _Force_, but it had been so long since he'd allowed anyone to touch him like this. "You are wicked," he breathed.

She drew away to give him a stunning smile. "Yes, I am. Come on, let's go to your quarters and have sex on your Master's bed."

A jolt of lust almost took his breath away. "That's ... I think that would be going too far."

She giggled. "All's fair in love and war, Obi-Wan."

"Yes, but ... you would be willing to do that?" His mind was fighting the idea even as his body surrendered to it. He'd been saving himself for so long, only to be turned away. And Rissa _was_ a pretty girl. Why shouldn't he give himself to someone else if Qui-Gon didn't want him?

She twined her arms around his neck. "Kiss me again and see if I'm willing."

Almost without thought he pressed his mouth against hers, exploring, tentative at first, then with a growing urgency. He didn't need the Force to sense her desire. And by all that was Light, he _wanted_ this, needed it so much he could barely breathe, could barely think. They hurried down the corridors to the lift. As soon as the door closed, Obi-Wan had Rissa's party dress up around her waist. One hand squeezed almost painfully at a plump breast, the other slid into her panties and plunged into her slick, hot slit. His mouth was still on hers, and she moaned into it. Her hands slid along the bulge at the front of his jumpsuit, massaging the stiff flesh in long, firm strokes. Obi-Wan pulled away, gasping, as the lift door slid open. He grabbed Rissa's hand and all but dragged her to his quarters.

The door was barely closed when he was on her again, pinning her to the wall with a hard kiss, hands sliding the dress up to her armpits and raking her with frantic caresses. He ground his body against hers, and she lifted a leg to feel him closer, his erection painfully hard against her hip bone.

Oh, but she had never imagined he would be like _this_! She'd admired him since childhood, and though she'd desired him for years she'd kept her feelings to herself, knowing his heart belonged to someone else. She'd indulged in fantasies from time to time, but in all of them he had been very calm, very gentlemanly, very ... Jedi-like, and she'd been the seducer. The reality of his dominance, his mastery, his _need_, threatened to overwhelm her. For the first time in her life, she realized how much stronger he was, despite her size and training, and she felt a tiny thrill of fear.

He sensed it and pulled away instantly. He put a hand against the wall on either side of her and just stared, almost gasping for breath. "Are you sure about this, Rissa?"

"Obi-Wan, I have wanted you forever, but that damned red band kept me from saying anything." She grinned, reached to open his jumpsuit. "Now I have it, and I plan to claim what's mine." She ran her hands inside the dark fabric, caressing damp, hot skin over layers of muscle.

He didn't move, didn't react at all except for the slight intake of breath as her fingers brushed across his rock-hard nipples. "As long as we both understand this is just ..." She looked up and saw that his eyes were bright. Was he about to cry?

"Just pleasure," she said and leaned forward to kiss him. This time the kiss was more the way she'd imagined, soft, languorous, utterly sensual. She released his mouth and worked her way down his neck to the bend of his shoulder again.

"No promises?" he whispered against her temple.

"No promises," she murmured. She slid under his arm, past him. He turned with her. She took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

They stripped each other quickly, hands and lips caressing each new bit of bare skin as it was revealed. Rissa took Obi-Wan's hand again and pulled him backwards onto the bed. He landed on top of her, grinning. "How do you want it?" he said huskily. His cock throbbed against her thigh.

She pulled his head down to whisper in his ear. "Fast and hard and deep ... at least the first time." She rolled onto her stomach and thrust her rounded hips upward, inviting entry. "Like this."

All the air in the room seemed to rush away as in a vacuum, and he found himself panting. There was only the ache in his groin, the unbelievable need. He pulled her to her knees, grabbed the pillows, and jammed them under her hips. He crouched behind her, pressed the head of his swollen cock against her opening, felt her shudder as she arched back against him.

"Please ..." she moaned.

He slipped inside her, just the tip. She was wonderfully tight. She moaned again, and he pressed a little further.

"Oh, do it ... take me ..." she pleaded. Her hand snaked up between her legs and stroked her clit furiously. "Hurry!"

Obi-Wan surrendered, plunging himself deep inside her, giving himself over to the feeling of that hot, wet flesh enveloping him. Oh, but it had been so long ... and it was so good ... and for a moment he forgot why he'd been denying himself this pleasure. His weight was on her now, pinning her down. His mouth bit and licked and kissed its way over her neck and shoulders as he pounded into her again and again, grunting in time to their rhythm.

She had never felt so completely filled, so completely _taken_, and each time he buried himself into her he touched something deep inside. A climax that had started almost from the moment he'd entered her continued to build and build, rocking her to the very core, merciless and endless. Her moans increased in pitch and volume, until she was practically screaming with each thrust. It didn't last long; it couldn't, and with a hoarse shout Obi-Wan came. The sound of his voice and the feel of his seed pumping into her sent her over the edge as well, and the waves of her climax culminated in a mind-numbing jolt of pure pleasure that nearly took her consciousness with it.

Obi-Wan collapsed on top of her. After a moment he rolled to his back. She nudged the pillows away and settled onto his chest, gasping. "I love you, Obi-Wan."

Tears came to his eyes. He stroked her hair. "Please, don't."

"I know you love Qui-Gon. I'm okay with that. I just wanted you to know. You don't have to say anything."

He rolled over to face her, traced the line of her chin with his thumb. "I don't deserve that, but I thank you."

"Oh, but you do deserve it. Don't you know how wonderful you are? I can't believe your Master doesn't see it. He's a fool if you ask me."

"Qui-Gon is not a fool," he said defensively. "He just doesn't want me." He swallowed a lump in his throat and willed himself to let the emotion diffuse into the Force. Hadn't he expected this, really? Qui-Gon had never wanted him, not from the beginning. And no matter how hard Obi-Wan tried, his master had made it clear he wasn't good enough, would never be good enough. He had been stupid to think otherwise. "He doesn't want me," he said again. "That's fine. I've got somebody right here who does." He leaned forward and kissed her. Their bodies pressed together, and she felt his erection stirring again. "You do want me, don't you?"

She laughed, pressed him onto his back. "Mmm. Yes, silly boy."

"But not here," he said quickly. He pushed her off, rolled to his feet, and offered a hand. "Not in _his_ bed. I don't care about making him jealous anymore. Let's get this cleaned up before he gets back."

She ran her hands down his chest, curved her palm around the weight of his semi-hard member. "You're a little sticky. Don't you want me to clean you up first?" She licked her lips suggestively, then smiled as he came alive once more in her hand.

He groaned. "I think we could both use a shower. But we'll have to make it quick."

She giggled, and let him drag her through the common room and into the bath.

Qui-Gon paced the Temple atrium and tried in vain to meditate. He couldn't see his path in this, but he knew he would have to talk with Obi-Wan, to explain that he hadn't realized the magnitude of the gift he'd been offered. The trouble was, now that he understood, he still didn't know what to do with it. Obi-Wan desired him. Why? What had he ever done to deserve that? He was an old man, on the downhill slope of life, with so much emotional baggage he didn't know if he _could_ love again, even if he wanted to. And Obi-Wan was a vital, attractive young man with his whole future ahead. What's more, the boy was his apprentice. The whole situation was just impossible. He refused even to consider it. Still, he would have to face Obi-Wan, and the sooner the better.

As he entered their shared quarters, Qui-Gon heard the shower. He slowed, reached out through their bond to find Obi-Wan's shields tightly raised. Would the girl still be here? Surely not. Surely Obi-Wan would not bring her _here_, not after what had happened at the party. The bathroom door was open; steam rolled out into the common room. Qui-Gon peered in as he passed, and his breath stopped.

Through the transparent shower door Qui-Gon could see them, young bodies slick with soap, hot water pounding down. Obi-Wan had the girl up against the tile wall, taking her with quick, forceful thrusts. He could see every line of muscle in his apprentice's sculptured back, every clench and release of the slender buttocks. Even above the water Qui-Gon could hear Obi-Wan's moans, the girl's cries of pleasure. As he watched, transfixed, the girl shuddered in climax, and Obi-Wan followed her soon after with a loud groan. Their bodies slid down to curl around each other at the bottom of the stall, embracing, stroking, kissing.

He realized his hands were shaking, and his penis was rock hard. _You are a sick old man,- he thought viciously. Qui-Gon turned away, walked to his room, and stopped again as he crossed the threshold. The room smelled unmistakably of sex. Discarded clothing littered the floor. His blanket puddled in the corner, his pillows piled in the middle of the bed, and near the headboard, stark against the rumpled white sheets, a small red band.

A shock of pure anger stabbed through him, rocked him back on his heels. He clutched the doorframe for support and took a deep breath. Then another one. He couldn't recall a time when he'd felt so little in control of his emotions. Dimly he heard the water cut off, the shower door slide open, the rustle of towels against damp skin. Qui-Gon walked to the bed, picked up the red band, and turned, only to see Obi-Wan standing in the doorway, wearing a sheepish grin and a towel.

"I'm sorry, Master," he said. "I meant to get this cleaned up before you got back."

"How dare you?" Qui-Gon breathed. His voice was like ice.

Obi-Wan went very still. "I ... I'm sorry ... I know it was disrespectful. It's just that my bed is so small, and we --"

Qui-Gon closed the distance between them. Obi-Wan took a step back at the intensity in those deep blue eyes. Waves of rage and something darker were leaking from his master through hastily erected shields. "Is this all it meant to you?" He held out his hand. The red band looked startlingly small in his large palm.

Obi-Wan's eyes blazed. "What do you care? You made it clear it meant nothing to _you.-"

"And now I'm glad I didn't take it." Qui-Gon threw it down on the pile of discarded clothes.

"So am I."  Obi-Wan practically spat the words.

The two men stared at each other for a moment in silent challenge. It was Qui-Gon who blinked first. "Clean this up. And then wait here for me. I'll be back when I'm done meditating on your punishment." Qui-Gon brushed past his apprentice, giving a glare to the towel-clad girl standing in the middle of the common room, and strode out the door.

"Shit," said Rissa.

Obi-Wan watched his Master leave, lips pressed into a tight line. "You'd better go," he said quietly.

Qui-Gon paced the Temple atrium for the second time within the space of an hour, his emotions seething. He felt very close to the Dark Side, closer than he'd felt in many years, and it shook his composure. What was happening to him? He threw himself down on his knees, tried to release the feelings into the Force so that he could meditate, but his calm center eluded him. He leaned forward, sank face down, spread eagle on the ground, breathing deeply and trying to let the living Force from the growing plants all around him soak in and bring him peace.

Fear leads to anger, he thought. So what am I afraid of?

Of losing control, came the first answer. He breathed deeply, let it out. Yes, that was an old fear, one he'd had to put to rest many times. Control was the essence of a Jedi, first, last, and always. As a Master, his control must be absolute. And yet tonight, he had lost it so easily, over something fairly trivial.

No, not trivial. Obi-Wan's heart was not trivial. He took another deep breath. Here was the second answer, then. Fear of hurting Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, the boy -- no, _man_ now, he reminded himself -- the man he loved better than a son, who had brought joy and light back to his life after he'd lost Xanatos to the Dark Side, who had restored his failed confidence in himself, restored even his will to live. Obi-Wan, who would one day in the not too distant future be a Knight, one of the best Knights the order had ever seen.

He took in a shuddering breath. Here it was, then the third answer, the deepest fear. Tonight he had been reminded forcefully that his Padawan was no longer a boy, but a man. And very soon, too soon, Obi-Wan would leave him. And Qui-Gon realized that he could not stand the thought of living without him.

But I must, he told himself. That is the way of things.

No, not always -- Master Gallia had reminded him of that. He thought of the Knights and Masters he knew. A few of them had stayed together, had become bonded pairs. A few, through the years, had even come together as Master and Padawan, although it was exceedingly rare. Was that what he wanted? Was that what Obi-Wan wanted? Even the thought of it filled him with apprehension, and he realized there was another fear there, buried even deeper than the others. What was it? He couldn't see, the idea seemed to elude him.

He let himself go completely into the Force, not seeking, only waiting. And then the answer came, finally. He had loved Xanatos, loved him as much as he loved Obi-Wan -- no, more so. With Xanatos there had been no history of a failed Padawan to make his heart wary of commitment. With Xanatos his devotion to and confidence in the young man had been total. When Xanatos had turned to the Dark Side, had fought him, had laughed as he threw Qui-Gon's devotion back into his face, his ability to trust had been torn from him. He'd sworn then that he would never let himself be so vulnerable again.

And now, here was Obi-Wan, holding out his love and devotion like a beacon of light into the dark corners of his Master's benighted soul. To accept what he offered, Qui-Gon would have to let go and trust. After all these years, he wasn't sure he could.

Trust.

As he had watched Obi-Wan making love to that girl, he'd felt ... betrayed. He'd felt white-hot anger, not at his apprentice's thoughtless and transparent attempt to make him jealous, not at the mess they'd made of his bed, but ....

But that red band. That belonged to _him_.

Even as he thought this, a bitter laugh escaped his lips. Selfish old man, to want Obi-Wan to save himself for you, when you have no intention of taking what he offers. What do you expect him to do, keep himself chaste for you until he is a Knight? Will you be able to commit to him then? Or will you keep silent and let him go?

A deep pain stabbed his heart. I cannot let him go, he thought. Yet I cannot take what he offers.

Can I?

He imagined himself in Obi-Wan's arms, kissing him, running his hands along that sculpted body that was almost as familiar to him as his own. He felt arousal stir, and smiled grimly to himself. Perhaps his subconscious was not so averse to the idea as his stubborn will seemed to think. But even this small fantasy had engendered stark fear in him. He surrendered it to the Force, sure in both mind and body that what his apprentice wanted was good and right. Now if only he could convince his heart as well.

Obi-Wan finished changing his master's sheets and setting the room to order, then put on his workout trousers, leaving his torso bare in preparation for the punishment. He went to the cabinet and pulled out his meditation mat, sank to his knees upon it, placed the cane next to him and composed himself to wait. He settled his consciousness into an attitude of submission and humility, letting all the other emotions of the night fall away. Yes, he had behaved in a thoroughly unworthy manner this night. He had deliberately set out to goad his Master into anger. He had let himself feel anger in return. He had been disrespectful. He had used an acquaintance sexually to make another person jealous. That last was the worst. He sighed. He would have to go to Rissa soon and apologize.

What had he been thinking? After all this time, to spend his first night as a man in meaningless, casual sex ... he had profaned the very thing he'd sought to offer Qui-Gon. Yes, his Master had seemed jealous. But it was no triumph. Everything Obi-Wan had been trying to build in the last five years of devotion had been ruined. His hopes and his heart lay shredded inside his chest. He sighed again. Now all he could do was hope that Qui-Gon could forgive him, that somehow they could put this behind them and go on as Master and Padawan. Perhaps if he let his Master see his devotion he would not be set aside, given to another Master. He subsumed his grief into the Force and focused his meditations on being the perfect apprentice, with perfect obedience, perfect humility.  

He was on the edge between meditation and exhausted slumber when he felt his Master's presence. He straightened his spine, but kept his eyes downward in submission.

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, feeling stunned at the sight that greeted him. His composure from the meditation fled, replaced entirely by wonder and desire. Fantasy was one thing; the reality before him was so much more. The young man's body, so fit, vibrating with the Force even in repose. The dark lashes against the pale face. The full lips, still swollen from lovemaking. The blunt-fingered hands resting palm-up and fully relaxed on powerful thighs --  what might those legs feel like wrapped around him? What might that cultured voice sound like, crying out his name in passion?

He clamped a lid on his roiling emotions with an effort. "Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master."

"I see you have selected the cane. Do you wish me to beat you?"

"It is what I deserve, Master."

Qui-Gon sucked in a breath. He crossed the room and knelt, laid his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "No, Padawan. If anything, I deserve it far more than you."

"Master?" He still did not look up.

"Obi-Wan, I owe you an apology, and an explanation."

Obi-Wan's hands fidgeted. "No, Master. You don't owe me anything."

"Yes I do. You will be silent and listen."

"As you wish, Master."

How could he have never heard before the undercurrent of devotion in his student's utterance of that title? He took another deep breath. "Padawan, I have behaved badly tonight. I have been blind, and I have hurt you unintentionally. I have let myself lose control of my emotions. For all of that I am deeply sorry. Obi-Wan, look at me."

Obi-Wan lifted his face. The blue-green eyes held nothing but peace and a calm acceptance. As Qui-Gon gazed into their depths he felt as if he were falling into a well.

"Padawan, please believe me when I say I had no idea ... Master Gallia explained to me the meaning of the bands. If I had known, I would not have responded as I did. It is the most generous gift you could give, and I am humbled that you offered it to me."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "I should not have offered it, Master. I should have realized you could never return my feelings. After all these years, without a word ... I have been a fool."

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, Master. I should hope I've made that clear."

"Even though you're sure I could never return your feelings?"

He opened his eyes again at that, grinned almost apologetically. "When have I ever let your rejection stop me?"

Qui-Gon's heart turned over. He reached out and traced Obi-Wan's jaw line with a thumb, felt the younger man lean into the touch. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, parted his lips, swayed slightly on his knees.

"Suppose I am tired of rejecting you, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan bowed his head, but not before Qui-Gon saw the tears that threatened to spill from beneath the dark lashes. "Please, Master. Do not tease me."

Qui-Gon felt as if his heart would burst. He drew closer, their faces near to touching, their breaths mingled. He used a finger to lift Obi-Wan's face to the light. "I don't want to tease you, Padawan. I want to love you." He brushed a kiss, feather light, against his apprentice's lips.

Obi-Wan didn't move, didn't respond at all except with a slight hitch in his breathing and a tear that slid from one still-closed eye. Qui-Gon kissed him again, firmer this time, and he felt a sob escape into his mouth.

"What is it, Obi-Wan?"

"Master," Obi-Wan whispered desperately. "Please, Master ..."

"Please what, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath. "You don't have to. I don't want this."

"Yes, you do." Qui-Gon reached for the nape of Obi-Wan's neck, pulled him into a deep, lingering kiss, plundered his mouth as he felt his own desire deepening into true need. "And so do I." As he stood he lifted Obi-Wan with him, never letting the kiss falter as he walked his apprentice backward into the young man's private chamber. He let his weight push Obi-Wan slowly to the bed, then settled next to him, half draped over him. His erection pressed into Obi-Wan's thigh; he felt an answering throb at his belly. He bent and let his tongue trace the shell of an ear, smiling as he felt Obi-Wan shudder. He nibbled down the neck to the base of his throat, marked his apprentice with a bite, then soothed the mark with licks and kisses. Obi-Wan was moaning openly now, and Qui-Gon pressed their bodies together, hands everywhere, slipping beneath his waistband to knead the smooth, round ass, grinding their erections together through the fabric of their trousers. Oh, yes, Qui-Gon had almost forgotten what it was like to feel this level of need. He felt like a teenager himself, all rational thought consumed in a fire of lust. Obi-Wan arched against him and whimpered; his hands clutched at the sheets convulsively. Qui-Gon nearly gasped at the raw greed of the desire leaking to him through Obi-Wan's tight shields. He abandoned all pretense at patience and rose to his knees, stripping away both their garments as quickly as he could. Obi-Wan simply lay back and watched him, panting, eyes almost shut.

Qui-Gon ran light kisses across Obi-Wan's chest, down his abdomen, to his thighs. Then he reached out his tongue and licked a pearl of fluid from the tip of Obi-Wan's cock. His apprentice groaned loudly and thrust his hips in the air. That was all Qui-Gon needed; he descended on Obi-Wan's cock and set about devouring it. After only a few seconds he felt Obi-Wan's balls contract in impending orgasm. "No!" Obi-Wan shouted, and Qui-Gon pulled back. "No ..." Obi-Wan groaned again.

"No, not yet," chuckled Qui-Gon. He placed his hands on Obi-Wan's hips and turned him over, running kisses down his spine from top to bottom. Obi-Wan reached up and clutched the headboard, gasping. When Qui-Gon reached Obi-Wan's cleft he grasped the mounds and parted them, continuing the kiss between his cheeks. He poked his tongue very gently inside Obi-Wan's tight opening and was rewarded with a thrust of Obi-Wan's hips and another groan, "please ... oh, no ..."

He used his tongue to caress that opening, to penetrate it, until he felt it begin to relax. He spit on his fingers, gently opening Obi-Wan still further. Obi-Wan continued to moan and thrust his hips against the invading digits. At last when Qui-Gon thought he was ready he pressed the tip of his slickened, engorged cock against the opening. "No ..." Obi-Wan moaned again.

"Just relax," Qui-Gon panted, desperately trying to hold back the urge to simply plunge inside that hot channel and take what he needed. "Use the Force to open yourself to me, and it won't hurt. Trust me."

He felt Obi-Wan struggle to do what he said, and then the ring of muscle eased and Qui-Gon slid smoothly inside that scalding, tight cavern. He caught his breath. "Oh, you feel so good, Padawan." His arousal was at such a peak now it was all he could do to deep from climaxing just from this alone. Then Obi-Wan moved back against him, forcing him deeper, and he began to thrust.

They found a rhythm quickly, a pounding, hard, desperate pace, and in only a moment Obi-Wan's body tensed beneath him. He heard Obi-Wan moan again, "No ..." and then a shout: "Noooo!" as his body convulsed and he shot his warm seed into the sheets beneath him.

His contractions sent Qui-Gon's senses into overload, and with a groan of pleasure he emptied himself into his apprentice's body.

After a moment, during which Qui-Gon felt the blood finally returning to his brain, he carefully withdrew and took his weight off the smaller body beneath him. Obi-Wan rolled over to his side and curled into a ball. His shoulders heaved and shook.

A sharp disquiet took hold of Qui-Gon's soul. He reached out and placed a hand on Obi-Wan's back. The young man shuddered.

"Padawan ..."

"You can go now," said a small voice.

"What?"

"You don't have to stay. It's okay."

Qui-Gon slid until his body enveloped Obi-Wan from behind, wrapped his arms around the younger man, settled his face against the nape of his neck and breathed in his scent. "I don't have to be anywhere else right now, Padawan. Please, tell me what's wrong."

Obi-Wan suddenly exploded out of his grasp, elbows and hands thrashing, legs kicking. He leapt from the bed and backed into a corner. He hugged himself, but his eyes were dry. "I would have preferred the cane!"

Qui-Gon's stomach clenched into a knot. "I don't understand. Padawan --"

"Please ... Master ..." The words were barely a whisper. "Just go. Please."

Qui-Gon looked at him for a moment, hurt and anger and confusion coloring his thoughts. Anger won. He rolled to his feet. "If that's what you want, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan just turned his back and pressed his forehead against the wall.

Shaking now with a fear that he would not let himself acknowledge, Qui-Gon pulled on his clothes and left.

(Continued in next half of Part 2: Coming of Age.)